Quadruple LifeJ. P. Dancing Bear
I was out there with my quadruple lives; trying to keep it straight. Someone says who is that guy and even I turn to look at one of my selves’ unrecognizable blue eyes— the shade of sky in front of a bank of gray. In these candle-scorched days only the rich get their one life, with the romance of a second being a mysterious adventure. My second fell in love with someone's third but none of our others could agree to the union— churches of objectors raising their fists while Jesus perched and sighed; his first, third and fourth lives completely unknown. Only the famous Jesus still hangs on, catching no moss in the steepled hands of alternative lives pressed together in single dwelling houses.
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